Side Window
by WholeMilk
Summary: Brad may be stuck on the couch with an injured knee - but intrigue finds its way to him. (This story takes place following the events of the Home Improvement episode "Knee Deep")
1. Chapter 1

Brad wasn't happy. Well, right now he was. But overall he was far from happy. His tumble down the stairs might've ended his soccer career. Career, Brad thought to himself, can it be called a career when you've never make a dime from it? Never even made it to the collegiate level. Whatever, he thought. Brad was taking this night for himself. Some chips, some dip, some Dr. Pepper and some of these wonderful pills he'd been given by the doctors.

What is Percocet?, he thought as he hobbled over to the couch. Brad had no idea but regardless — it was awesome. If he had to be on crutches with a soccer-less future looming ahead, they made it bearable. He wasn't even angry at his dad right now. Although, admittedly, it really wasn't his dad's fault. It was sort-of both of their faults — maybe even more his fault. Regarding that last idea, Brad wasn't ready to fully admit it — yet. He had more important things on his mind, such as: How good are good potato chips? His mom had gotten him Cape Cod chips from the good grocery store. Cape Cod sounds cool, Brad thought, as he got serious with a dark russet.

"Let's see what's on TV," Brad said out loud. Nobody else was home. Randy was in Costa Rica being a hippie. Mark was god knows where being a mall goth. His parents were out to dinner with friends. And Uncle Marty and the girls were staying the weekend up Aunt Nancy's brothers cottage somewhere in the Upper Peninsula. Are they ever getting divorced?, Brad thought as he dive-bombed a chip into some onion dip. Not Brad's problem.

The injured soccer star flipped through the channels: USA, TBS, A&E. Nothing good was on. Hold up! HBO. Nothing. Damn!, he thought. He turned the TV off. The house was quiet. How good would some Reese's Peanut Butter Cups be right now? Before Brad could answer his own rhetorical question there was a knock on the glass door next to the dining table. Well, more of a bang than a knock. Well, actually, more of a loud bang rather than a knock.


	2. Chapter 2

At first, due to the lights on inside the house, Brad could only see a shape close to the window. Then came another knock and a face pressed-up against the glass.

"Jason?", Brad asked to no one in particular.

"Brad, let me in. For real man," Jason pleaded while looking behind him.

Brad hopped up from the couch as best he could and grabbing his crutches made a gesture for Jason to come around the house to the closer glass door by the TV.

As he opened the door Brad was almost bowled over by the frantic Jason. "I only have one good knee right now — and I'm trying to keep it that way." Brad joked to his sort-of friend in an annoyed way. "Sorry. Sorry," Jason replied distractedly. 'What are you doing here man?," Brad asked. "And why are you so jumpy? Is everything alright?"

Jason walked from door to door, window to window peering out. After he felt he had looked at all he could, he turned to Brad and caught his breath.

"Alright. You know that jock asshole Mark McAdams?" Jason asked.

"Fourth and short?" Brad replied.

"Yeah, yeah him."

"I know him, yeah." Brad said still unsure of where this was going. "Why did he finally pick on you one too many times and you murdered him?" Brad laughed.

"No, nothing like that. I stole his car instead." Jason said in a 'don't freak out' kind of way.

"You what?!"

"Listen, don't freak." Jason begged as his nervousness returned. "You know how McAdams has that douchey new Z28 his equally douchey father bought him?" Jason continued before Brad could respond. "So there it was. Right out in front of Stacy Magnulis's house as I was walking home from Binton's. Doors unlocked. Keys in the visor."

"No." Brad said incredulously.

"I swear man. Right there, half dangling in the glow of the street light."

"So you took it."

"I did."

"So why are you here? Wait — where is it parked?! It better not be in front of my house. My parents would kill me if a stolen car gets found at our house."

"Nope. Not parked out front. Or…", sensing Brad's next question, "in the driveway."

"Then where is it?"

"That's easy", Jason said with a touch of his usual Eddie Haskel nature returning. "It's in that ravine over on Kinlin Drive, where I ditched it when I ran from the police after I blew a stop sign and took them on a five minute chase."

Jason smiled at Brad, asking with that smile both for understanding and forgiveness.

"Well," Brad stated calmly. "If that's all you did then — GET OUT!"


	3. Chapter 3

"I can't man!,' Jason pleaded. "They're outside!"

"You brought the cops here!" Brads temper continued to grow.

"I thought that was implied when I said that I ditched a car after a police chase." Jason smirked.

"Don't be cute." Brad couldn't believe he had just used that phrase.

Brad began to pace, as best he could on crutches. He looked out the back doors. No sign of Wilson's hat above the fence. There's a first time for everything, Brad thought.

"Did anyone see you cut through to my yard?" Brad asked pointedly.

"I don't think so." Jason replied quickly.

"I need to know."

Jason looked out the side doors. He walked closer, quietly, as if someone on the sidewalk on the other side of the trees and bushes might be able to hear his footsteps.

"I don't see any flashlights — or hear anything. I think I lost them."

"You better have."

Brad made his way over to the couch and sat down. So much for a relaxing night of junk food and television. Maybe they'll film a segment for "COPS" in here when they arrest Jason for grand theft auto and him for harboring a fugitive. Dad won't be the only TV star in the family, Brad laughed to himself.

"Where are your folks again?" Jason queried.

"Dinner." Brad answered annoyed.

"When are they going to be back?"

"Whenever dinner ends." Brad answered, his annoyance over the entire situation growing with every passing second.

Jason didn't register the annoyance in Brad response. Instead he began to pace, his nervousness returning with a vengeance.

"Listen, Brad, I…", Jason began. His words were stopped by a stern knocking at the Taylor's front door. A deep voice bellowed from behind the thick wood.

"Royal Oak Police!"

Brad looked at Jason. Jason looked at Brad. They were both waiting for a second knock. It came.


	4. Chapter 4

"Police! We need to talk to the homeowner!"

Brad went to look at Jason but it was too late. Jason had already hit the deck and was doing a modified low crawl past the refrigerator like he was some sort of culinary Scout Sniper.

Brad watched in disbelief until a third knock snapped him out of it.

"On my way officer!" Brad shouted towards the door.

Brad crutched his way up to the front door and as he passed the short hallway in front of the kitchen, he saw Jason slowly shutting the closet door, holing himself in. Don't let anyone say that Jason isn't a total coward, Brad thought to himself.

Brad paused for a moment, taking a breath, before opening the door. He turned the handle and backed away as meekly as he couldn't manage.

"May I help you officer? Sorry it took so long to get to the door. Still getting used to these things."

Noticing the crutches, the officer answered apologetically. "Not to worry son, I can see that you're not 100%. Are either of your parents home?"

"No, they're out to dinner with some friends." Brad replied.

"Is anyone else in the house?"

"Nope, just me. Me and my torn meniscus." Brad put on his best half-joking/half-disappointed voice.

"Ouch', the officer grimaced. "You know, my wife torn her meniscus skiing when we were first married. She was in a lot of pain. But not as much pain as I was, since it was my idea to teach her to ski."

The officer laughed the laugh of a married man and Brad realized, coldly, that he should probably be wondering why the officer was here. An innocent person would ask.

"That sounds rough! Anyway, what's the problem officer? Is there something going on in the neighborhood? Is Mr. Wilson next door OK?"

"Mr. Wilson is fine, I just spoke with him. The problem is that we had a stolen car dumped a few streets over and the suspect was last scene heading this way on foot."

"A stolen car?! What's happening to this town?" Brad said putting on his best outraged face. "My car was stolen last month in front of the high school!"

"That's right! Hey, your the Tool Man's kid!" The officer smiled.

"Yup, Brad Taylor. Officer…?"

"Officer Hirsch."

"Officer Hirsch." Brad paused. "This is a crime wave. Did anyone get a good look at the guy? I'd like to know who to keep an eye out for."

"Right now everything's vague. But we know he was approx. 25-30, a little over 6'0", and has a limp."

"A limp?" Brad asked genuinely confused.

"Yes, a woman out walking her schnauzer said she saw our man hurrying down the other side of the street and claimed he was limping like he had one leg shorter than the other."

"Well he shouldn't be hard to miss."

"We hope not." The officer pointed at the locks on the front door. "Be sure to lock those tonight Brad. You never know what a guy like that is capable of."

Officer Hirsch began to walk away — only to turn on his heels, startling Brad who was just beginning to close the door.

"Oh and one more thing…" Officer Hirsch began.

Oh great, Brad thought. He had seen enough "Columbo" reruns to know the danger in that statement.

"Be sure to tell your father that I love "Tool Time." With that Officer Hirsch walked away

"Will do." Brad called after him, with a sense of relief.

Brad quietly shut the door but found himself losing his sense of relief and fixating on something the officer had said. He was right, you did never know what a guy like that was capable of. Whether it was a fictional, limping criminal concocted in some excited housewife's mind or if it was your snaky sometimes friend hiding in your parent's broom closet.

"You can come out now Capone!" Brad yelled to the still hidden Jason.

Suddenly Brad was rethinking the circumstances surrounding his own stolen car.


	5. Chapter 5

"So they're gone? For real?", Jason said while poking his head out from the cracked closet door.

"No, I have the officer hiding behind the desk here. You just gave yourself away."

Brad didn't even look in Jason's direction as he emerged from the closet and began peeking around the Taylor house as if Brad might not have been kidding.

"Thanks Brad. Seriously, man." Jason said, his normal snakiness returning to his voice.

"Seriously man, you're not welcome." Brad said, still not looking at Jason. Brad was pouring over details of his car's theft in his mind. Trying to remember. Jason didn't notice Brad's comment.

"Cool, cool. Hey, do you have a jacket I could borrow?" Jason asked while looking at himself in the mirror.

Is this guy for real?, Brad thought to himself. How was I ever friends with him?

"Sure man, take this." Brad tossed Jason his red warm-up jacket. Jason put on the jacket with a large smile on his face.

"Perfect man, even if they saw me walking home, I would stand out as someone who they are clearly not looking for. They won't even stop to ask me where I was coming from."

"Glad I could help." Brad was now staring at his "friend" and trying not to let his suspicions show through. Not that someone as self-involved as Jason would even notice. Jason wouldn't notice a brick to the head, unless, of course, it messed-up his used car salesman's smile.

Jason left through the front door and made his way down the short walkway. Brad felt like kicking him in the small of the back.

"Try not to limp!", Brad yelled after him. Jason either didn't hear him or didn't care to acknowledge him, now that he felt he was in the clear.

Could Jason have actually been involved in stealing my Mustang?, Brad wondered to himself after shutting the front door. Had Mark McAdams actually left his keys in his car? Who actually does that? Especially this day and age. If he hadn't then Jason has a hidden talent. Hidden from Brad for what reason? Brad thought he knew.

Nodding to himself, Brad crutched his way back to the couch. He silently promised himself that he was going to try to salvage the rest of the night. He also promised himself that he wasn't going to let Jason's story about tonight's joyride go unquestioned.

Brad picked-up the remote and flipped the channel. "Predator" was just beginning on TNT.

"Nice!" Brad exclaimed outloud — and as Carl Weather's odd combination of polo shirt and necktie hit the screen, Brad found himself thinking about removing Jason's spine and skull with his barehand.

It was going to be a good night after all.


End file.
